Forgiveness
by Clowns or Midgets
Summary: Even Sam knew there were just some things you couldn't apologize away. Bobby could look into the earnest and apologetic eyes and remember them with no emotion. He could remember a raised knife. Had Dean not come back in time… Bobby just couldn't forgive and forget. Not until he heard the gunshot echoing back along the corridor from the direction Sam was in.


**Thank you so much Jenjoremy for working your beta magic on this, even though you're crazy busy. It's much appreciated.**

 **This is set midway through 6.16 – And Then There Were None. It's what I thought would happen the very first time I watched the episode.**

* * *

 _ **Forgiveness**_

Bobby wasn't known for being a forgiving man. As far as he was concerned, if someone screwed you over once, he or she was going to do it again. He'd never imagined Sam would be the one who did it though—who intentionally set out to end his life

He hadn't been _Sam_ at the time, Bobby knew that on a logical level, but it had sure looked a lot like him. He'd been without a soul, the thing that made him the person Bobby knew and loved, but he'd still done it. He had raised a knife to the man who had raised him like a son.

According to Castiel, that was the very reason he had tried to kill him—because he had been like a father to him, some bullshit spell that would have kept the soul out of the vessel. Sam had been fighting to save his life from what he believed meant death or worse, Bobby understood that, but that didn't excuse murder.

Bobby accepted his share of the blame, as did Dean. They should have locked Sam up when they realized he was soul lacking. They should never have let a trained killer run around without a conscience. But Sam had pretended that he was the same person he'd always been, and though he'd proven more than once he wasn't, they both wanted it to be true so much they'd let it blind them to the truth that Sam was dangerous.

Bobby just couldn't forget that.

And Sam knew it. Bobby could see it in his eyes, the way the poor kid was tying himself in knots trying to find the words or actions to make right something he didn't even remember. But even Sam knew there were just some things you couldn't apologize away. Bobby could look into the earnest and apologetic eyes and remember them with no emotion. He could remember a raised knife. Had Dean not come back in time…

Bobby just couldn't forgive and forget.

Not until he heard the gunshot echoing back along the corridor from the direction Sam was in.

His brother's name ripped from Dean's throat and he set off at a sprint toward the sound. Bobby was hot on his heels, his thoughts a chaotic scramble of, _"No, no, no! Not Sam. Please not Sam."_

Dean was faster, skidding around the corner, and Bobby heard his relieved sigh, "Sam." It calmed him, as Dean would never sound like that if Sam was hurt. Then another name ripped from Dean and he set off running again, "Samuel!"

Bobby knew Samuel was truly doomed this time.

"Oh thank God," Bobby said as he saw Sam. He was standing with his back to them but he wasn't moving. He wasn't running after his brother to help or stop him, and Bobby knew that was wrong. And there had been a gunshot. "Sam?" he said tentatively. "You okay, boy?"

Sam started to turn and then he coughed and Bobby saw the spatter of blood in the air as Sam's knees buckled. He seemed to drop slowly, almost gracefully, to the floor and Bobby raced forward, reaching him in time to catch his shoulders, easing his descent to the floor.

His head fell into the crook of Bobby's elbow, and his wide horrified eyes rose to meet Bobby's.

"You're okay!" Bobby said forcefully, pulling him a little closer instinctively.

"Yeah," Sam agreed weakly. "M'fine."

"You will be."

"Lay him down, Bobby," Rufus instructed, his hands moving over Sam to where the blood was darkest.

It was one of the hardest things Bobby had ever done, to release Sam and move back, especially as Sam's hand tangled in the front of his shirt and clung to him.

"It's okay, Sam. I'm still here," he said, carefully removing Sam's fingers and giving them a squeeze before setting his hand down at his side.

Rufus tore Sam's shirt and Bobby saw the wound on Sam's stomach. It was small but blood poured from it. Bobby shrugged off his shirt and handed it to Rufus who pressed it to the wound. Sam bucked and writhed and cried out, and Bobby gripped his shoulders to hold him down.

"Steady, boy," he said gently. "You're okay."

Sam nodded and drew in a breath through his nose. Bobby could tell he was trying to master himself, to control his reactions, but the pain had to be immense.

In the distance, there was a gunshot, and Sam flinched and rasped, "Dean."

"He's okay," Bobby reassured, hoping against hope he was right even as he shouted Dean's name.

"I'm okay," Dean shouted back.

"See? You hear that?" Bobby asked. "Dean's okay."

Sam nodded and then bucked again as Rufus adjusted the wadded cloth on his stomach.

"Easy," Bobby said.

Sam nodded again and Bobby could tell he was trying to keep a hold of reactions, but some things could not be controlled—pain like this was one of them.

"Now would be a good time for a visit from your angel friend, Bobby," Rufus said gruffly.

He raised his eyes and looked at Bobby, and for the first time Bobby paid attention to more than trying to calm and comfort Sam. He saw the blood-soaked cloth on Sam's stomach and catalogued the amount of blood lost already and the position of Sam's wound. Shot to the lower gut meant stomach. Sam was slowly poisoning himself. That would kill him if the blood loss didn't.

"Cas," Sam said in a breathy voice. "Need you."

"Castiel!" Bobby shouted, not that the volume was an object when praying. "Starlight Cannery, Sandusky, Ohio. Hurry."

"Gonna be okay," Sam said, and Bobby realized the kid was trying to reassure them. Bobby couldn't speak for a moment.

"Yeah, you are," Rufus said. "Seen worse shaving nicks than this. Just hold on and we'll get you fixed right up."

Sam nodded. "Thanks Rufus…"

Then they heard footsteps coming toward them. Bobby willed it to be Castiel, but it was Dean who sucked in a sharp breath and whispered Sam's name. He seemed frozen in place at the scene before him, but when Sam breathed his name, he rushed forward and dropped to his knees beside Sam, pushing Bobby away. Bobby moved back to give them space and added his own hands to the shirt Rufus was attempting to use to hold in Sam's blood where it belonged.

"Sammy! Look at me!" Dean ordered.

Sam blinked slowly and said, "Hey," even as his eyes drifted slowly closed again.

"No!" Bobby barked. "Eyes on Dean, Sam!"

Bobby could see Sam was trying his damndest, but his gaze was becoming distant and glazed. They were losing him.

"Sam!" Dean said, his voice cracking.

"Castiel!" Bobby shouted again. "Really, now would be a good time!"

"Cas!" Dean added his call to Bobby's. "Get your ass down here now."

Sam licked his bloody lips and his eyes drifted to Dean. "Samuel?"

"Dead," he said brutally.

"Good," Sam whispered, his eyes drifting closed again.

"Sam!" Dean growled. "Eyes open. Now!"

Sam did not, could not, obey. His head turned to the side and his lips parted slightly with weak breaths.

"Sammy?" Dean's voice was querulous.

Bobby grabbed Dean's hand and pressed it against Sam's neck. "Feel that?" he asked.

Dean searched for a pulse and then nodded. "It's fast," he said. "Really fast."

"Good," Rufus said. "Keep your damn hand there and tell us if anything changes.

"Yeah," Dean said distractedly. "Yeah, okay." His free hand came to Sam's forehead and he pushed back Sam's hair. "We're here, Sam. You're going to be okay."

Across Sam, Rufus caught Bobby's eye and shook his head slightly. Bobby swallowed hard and pressed down harder on the shirt.

"Castiel, you son of a bitch, we need you!" Dean said. "Please, Sam needs you."

Suddenly, Sam drew a hitching breath, exhaled, and didn't inhale again. Dean's fingers shook as they rooted over Sam's throat, searching for a pulse. "No!" he shouted. "No, no, no, no! Bobby!"

Bobby launched into action. He shoved Dean back and bowed over Sam, tilting his head back and holding his cheek over Sam's open mouth. "C'mon, kid," he muttered. "Give us something."

There was no breath against his cheek though, and he knew if he searched, there would be no pulse. He sealed his mouth over Sam's and blew in two deep breaths. As he pulled back, he tasted Sam's blood on his lips. It made him wipe a hand over his mouth and spit away the taste.

Rufus began to press down hard and fast on Sam's sternum.

"Sam! Sammy! Don't you dare!" Dean was shouting, but it was white noise to Bobby. All that he heard was Rufus counting off and then calling his name even as he bent to breathe for Sam.

Time seemed to cease moving. Bobby's attention was fixed wholly on his boy. He felt burning in the back of his eyes, but he refused to allow himself tears. Crying was what happened when there was no hope, when it was over. It wasn't over yet. There was still hope. As long as he himself was breathing, he had hope for Sam. Sam was going to be fine, and Bobby was going to have a chance to say how sorry he was for keeping that distance between them over what had happened. He would tell him he forgave him and understood. He would clean slate it all and never hold a grudge again. He would let it all go because Sam would be there to tell and that would be another damn miracle.

Suddenly there was another voice and someone's hand fell on Bobby's shoulder, pulling him back with irresistible strength. He spun around and whipped out a fist, making contact with something solid.

"No!" he shouted, fighting to get back to Sam and away from whoever had wrongly decided this was over.

"It's okay," Rufus was saying in his ear. "He's here."

Bobby stopped fighting and looked. Castiel was kneeling beside Sam, his hand brushing away the sodden cloth on his stomach and replacing it with his hand from which a blue-white light glowed. Bobby's eyes moved from Castiel's hand to Sam's face, and he saw the miraculous moment Sam drew in a breath and coughed. His eyes remained closed, but color rose in his cheeks again, making him look alive but ghoulish with the blood on his chin.

"Well, that sure is something," Rufus said, sounding awed.

Castiel stood and stepped back from Sam as Bobby and Dean rushed back to his side. Dean's hand cupped Sam's cheek and he sighed with relief. Bobby brushed Sam's hair back, feeling the warmth of his skin as blood rushed beneath the surface.

"Why isn't he awake?" Dean asked.

"He just needs a moment," Castiel said. "He will be fine."

"Fine…" Bobby growled, getting to his feet and advancing on Castiel. "He's fine _now,_ but he was dead! Where were you?"

To his credit, the angel looked ashamed. "I was locked in combat," he said. "I came as soon as I could."

"It wasn't soon enough!" Bobby bellowed. "You let him die! He…" His voice broke as he remembered the horror of the last few… How long had it been? Minutes, hours, a lifetime? Long enough for Bobby's heart to break. "You weren't here, you bastard!"

"I am sorry," Castiel said. "I would never have allowed this to happen had I a choice."

Bobby gripped his coat lapels and shook him roughly. "A choice! You had a choice. You just chose wrong."

"Bobby," a voice said behind him. He spun on his heel and saw Sam easing himself upright with Dean's hand supporting his back. "It's okay."

Bobby turned from Castiel and hurried toward Sam. He held out a hand and pulled Sam to his feet then dragged him into a hug. He squeezed Sam with all his might, feeling the warmth and life enclosed in his arms.

"I'm sorry," Sam whispered in a shaky voice, and Bobby knew he wasn't referring to what had happened that day. "I'm so sorry."

Bobby pulled back and gripped his shoulders. "You never have to apologize to me. Never in life," he said fervently.

Sam smiled slightly. "Thank you, Bobby."

Bobby stared into his eyes, seeing the life burning there, the emotion and love, and he realized he had been blaming the wrong man all along. _This_ was his Sam, and he would never hurt him intentionally. He didn't forgive him because there was nothing to forgive.

This was his boy.

* * *

 **Before this I don't think I've written a regular standalone one-shot like I used to since early 2014. I've been sitting on this idea for years, never getting round to writing it, but since I finished Brotherhood I have been dipping into my old ideas for something to get to work on before I settle with another full length fic. Hope it made for an interesting read.**

 **Until the next story…**

 **Clowns or Midgets xxx**


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